


Dull Sense Of Mortality

by XHazelDreamsX



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cum Collection, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Weird Witcher Courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XHazelDreamsX/pseuds/XHazelDreamsX
Summary: Jaskier knocked over one of Geralt's potions but that wasn't the bad part. The part that ruined his whole day was when he reached down to pick up the broken glass and instead get a handful of gooey white liquid that he almost immediately recognized as Semen.Jaskier almost gagged.He realized there were some things about his dear Witcher that probably went best unknown.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 245





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi <3 
> 
> Thanks for checking this work out! I appreciate it!
> 
> Sorry if there are currently any little mistakes. I’m still in the process of checking it!

Winter was approaching, Jaskier knew in the back of his mind but tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how each step he was closer to Oxenfurt and Geralt's gruff 'don't get into trouble' as he left for his mountainside home.

He didn't want winter to come. He didn't want to leave Geralt. But, as fate would have it, he knows he's no match for Mother Nature. So he ignores his inner feelings. The turmoil that wracks him each night as he lays in a bedroll, staring up at the night sky, wondering if Geralt feels the same way.

Does Geralt miss Jaskier when he's gone?

He highly doubts it.

...

"You've haven't touched your food," Geralt notes with a sour look on his face. Almost concern but that's just Jaskier's mind playing tricks on him. It's clearly Irritation.

"Mm, not hungry," he lies, sitting his head on his hand with a little groan. "Can't even believe the season of fun and mystical adventures is ending once again."

Geralt made a nose, eating his bread with little indication that he actually gave two shits about Jaskier's terribly hurt heart. Of course, he doesn't. Geralt is probably going to be more happy than a drunken alley cat sunbathing in the middle of a town square when Jaskier leaves. 

Because finally, Geralt will be free of Jaskier's nonessential rambles.

"I think I'll actually miss you," Jaskier sighed, like a child trying to poke around a subject. "You know? I don't think I ever have but this year...mm," Geralt shoves a piece of bread in Jaskier's mouth, shushing him.

Jaskier slaps his hand, chewing with a glare. 

"Enough Bard," Geralt said simply.

Of course, Geralt didn't understand.

...

Geralt left Jaskier to tend to the campsite as he went on a contract.

Jaskier made the fire, watched the flames climb higher and higher, and then felt the first snowflake hit his nose. Winter is coming. They need to get a move on.

But he rolls out the bedrolls anyway, right underneath a tree. He huffed a little breath before falling into Geralt's roll. Shoving his face into the fabric, inhaling deeply, grasping along the fur, where Geralt had laid many a night before.

So many times. So close yet so far away.

Jaskier could never work up the courage to tell him how much he liked him. How much he thought about him at night, in his dreams, and behind his eyelids as he daydreamed. Could never even tell him how often he stares at him, sitting up on roach so high and mighty.

Jaskier couldn't say anything.

He still can't.

...

He awoke to the crackle of the fire.

Geralt's figure crouched down in front of it, turning a rabbit over a stick. Cooking it for their dinner in relative silence. "You're in my roll," Geralt notes because of course, he knew Jaskier was awake. Change in heart rate, as Geralt would tell him those nights Jaskier had a nightmare.

"It looks like I am," he replied, taking one more inhale before sitting up and crawling over to the fire. "Yours is warmer."

Geralt hums and that's that.

Jaskier is glad though, even if he feels a little empty, that Geralt doesn't push the matter.

...

The night was filled with the sound of chirping, probably the last of the season.

...

He opened Roach's pouch to fetch himself water. But he hadn't expected the new glass bottle on top that promptly broke into a million pieces on the hard cold dirt when it fell. Fuck, he cursed as he slapped a hand over his forehead.

He's an idiot. Geralt is going to kill him for ruining one of his potions. He leans down to try to clean up the glass- maybe if he gets rid of the evidence Geralt wouldn’t notice for a couple of days, long after Jaskier has already safely taken shelter in Oxenfurt.

He immediately goes to grab the shards, he's not even thinking. But when his hand touches the pearly substance that is scattered around in big juicy blobs...

He almost throws upright in his mouth.

Instead, he rips his hand back in horror, cutting himself on a piece of glass. "Fuck-" he cried out, putting pressure on his fingertip to stop the bleeding.

"What did you do now?" Geralt called out to him, stopping his motion of sword sharpening.

"I- I cut myself."

"I know I can smell your-" Geralt stops as he gets closing, as he notices the mess on the ground.

Geralt's semen. Jaskier is sure of it. 

And he's disgusted and horrified but mostly confused.

"Oh," Geralt said simply, taking his hand, wiping off the blood and semen before wrapping it in a black stray fabric. 

"I'm sorry Geralt I didn't-"

"It's fine."

He wants to ask why. He wants to know but at the same time, he feels as if he'd never look at Geralt the same way again.

...

They stay one last night at an inn together. The last night of the season before they will have to go separate ways.

Geralt settles in the bath as always and Jaskier as always sits behind him, jabbering off about something or another. Half the time Jaskier isn't even sure what he's talking about for sure but he does know how to wash Geralt's hair so that's what he focuses on.

Running his fingers through the silky sliver locks, knowing the next time they meet he'll have to wash it again, thoroughly. Because Geralt often neglects his hair when left alone too long.

"You're beautiful," he whispered into Geralt's hair, and he fought the urge to run his hands down Geralt's chest, down those perfect muscles.

Geralt simply hums, eyes still closed.

Jaskier stands and feigns innocence. Acts like he's getting soap but really takes in one last good look of Geralt. The last look at his beautiful Witcher's body.

A body he was lucky enough to see and he told himself to be content with that. No need to say anything, no need to confess, friendship is good enough.

...

They slept in the same bed.

Jaskier rolled over and placed a hand on Geralt's chest, and his face against his side. He always kept his eyes closed, pretended to be sleeping, but he knows Geralt doesn't believe that.

But, he also knows that Geralt usually doesn't protest. Especially if Jaskier says he's had a nightmare.

...

He doesn't remember falling asleep.

He doesn't even remember waking up.

He just remembers the noise. The disgusting squelch, the slapping of skin on skin, and the small barely audible groan that comes from beside him. His hand had already rolled off, slack, but his face is still pressed into Geralt's side.

He can feel each movement of Geralt's hand.

He can imagine it so clearly.

The big hand wrapped around that big dick. Making both of them look like they belong together, like they are normal-sized and perfect.

It can make you feel small.

Jaskier kept his eyes closed, his breathing light, but he knew as soon as Geralt was done he'd realize he'd been awake.

Geralt's other hand comes up, holding a glass body, a new one. And Jaskier doesn't need to look to know the sound of cum hitting glass.

His stomach cramps. He can't even be sure if it's want or disgust but he does know he still loves Geralt. 

Even if he has some weird kinks.

"Aren't you going to ask?" Geralt's rough voice pierces Jaskier's ears.

"Don't need to," Jaskier slurs, slipping his hand back over on to Geralt's chest. "I understand."

There are some things people just like and there are some things better left unsaid.

"I have doubts."

"Nice to know you have faith in me, my Dearest Witcher."

Geralt says nothing more.

Jaskier inhales one last time, noting how the morning sun was just starting to rise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has turned a lot more crackish than I had originally planned (although I had some ideas of DarkGeralt) but eh. What can you do? I’ll definitely write some more serious works in the future.
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway <3

Jaskier didn't understand, Geralt was almost certain of that. It was from the looks he gave in the morning, as he stretched, as he pretended everything was fine.

He wondered what Jaskier thought this was but then figured he shouldn't. He shouldn't think of how distant Jaskier's eyes looked, how his hands no longer freely roamed Geralt's back as the used to.

He shouldn't have let Jaskier see. He should have snuck away like usual. Done it in private.

But Jaskier had been so distant lately, so depressed, so reliant on Geralt. On his touch, on his scent, on his very presence that he was sure that Jaskier would have begged to come to Kaer Morhen with him. And Geralt would have said yes, would have let him come just because he couldn't stand the salty smell that followed Jaskier now.

Jaskier was never this upset when they had to part ways.

_I think I'll actually miss you_

He thought if Jaskier saw, he'd ask questions. Things were always easier when Jaskier took the lead but instead, he clamped up. He didn't ask, he didn't talk about it.

That meant Geralt had to explain and he already knew it'd terrible. He always had a way of messing up simple conversations.

...

They didn't talk over breakfast.

...

They didn't talk as Geralt readied roach for the day.

...

They didn't talk as Jaskier slung his lute over his shoulder.

...

"I'm going to miss you Geralt," Jaskier did say, as Oxenford came into view. His eyes glowing up with excitement but his scent spilled out a different story. 

Distress and discomfort.

...

This was for the best, he argued with himself as they reached the boarder. He jumped off roach, rubbing along her hair as she glared at him. For some unknown reason, he doesn't know.

"I've gotten you something," he finally says, breaking the ice. Breaking that solid layer of awkwardness that had grown between them. "I-I understand if you don't want it."

Jaskier turned to him, his eyes narrowing, accusingly.

Geralt pulled the small round glass bottle from the bag. His seed slowly covering the inside as he gestured to it.

...

_“He always gets depressed before we part ways," he tells Lambert, explains as he's halfway to being drunk out of his mind._

_"Yeah? Why do you figure?" Eskel asked, throwing back his head and gulping down the rest of his ale. Between the three of them, Eskel was the soberest._

_"I...I don't know."_

_"He's probably depressed he couldn't see your naked glory anymore-"_

_"Lambert," Eskel scolds him with a glare._

”What it's probably true. Can't imagine that little tart didn’t fall head over ass for this idiot," Lambert points a finger at Geralt, a shit-eating grin on his face.

_"He doesn't," even though those words leave his mouth...he finds doubt lingering in his thoughts. Was there a possibly Jaskier had feelings for him?_

_Unlikely._

...

"I know this isn't typically a human custom," Geralt shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know if it's even something you'd even like."

...

_"I think I like him though," he admitted, and Lambert stopped his stupid picking._

_"Guess that means you've gotta court that lad right?"_

_He figured._

...

"It's a Witcher tradition-" not an official one, he leaves out. He doesn't know how to explain it. It's usually a thing between lovers, between pack.

"It's-"

How should he explain it? It's hard like this, since it's not in its typical form but he thought it'd work for courting. 

Usually, after intercourse, you'd smell like the other person, reek. When one of your pack comes home smelling like someone else you claim them by spreading seed over them- or inside.

It's a wolf thing.

He isn't sure how humans fair.

"If you-"feel lonely and want to imagine me beside you. "Ever miss me," and my scent and my body and want to imagine- "you can just use this."

Jaskier cracked a smile at first, then a full-on grin until he was laughing on the dirt. "Oh my Gods Geralt," he said, tears pricking his eyes. "We haven't even had a date yet."

He stares.

Jaskier gently pounds his hands into the ground before standing, dusting his bottom off. "Of course I'll take your freshly milked seed."

He accepts it.

Which Geralt feels a purr in his chest about but he doesn't say anything but a hum. Jaskier shoves it in his pocket and gives him a pat on the side. "See you next year, my dear Witcher."

Jaskier doesn't look back as he walks but Geralt can smell him. His contentment and his spark in arousal. He feels better, not as depressed, and that's good enough for Geralt.

Although he doesn't know whether or not Jaskier realizes that he's being courted or not.


End file.
